Reminder
by angelkicat
Summary: He asks about each scar and she describes each and remembers every one. [slight SasuSaku]


**Reminder**

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They were older. Older yet not children, not driven by hormones nor old enough to be sitting in a rocking chair in an old folk's home. The three extraordinary children had grown up, had been trained in the deadly art of murder. Yet they had not been tainted so much as to loose all innocence within them: Naruto still acted like a child, loud and brash; Sakura was still as clear and true as the sky, and Sasuke…well, he was tainted to begin with. Days were slow and they slowly, unconsciously, grew fond of each other. 

Days passed and it came to the month before Sasuke's next birthday. Sakura, knowing Sasuke's dislike for parties, held a small get-together between her, Sasuke, and Naruto before the mass of single women admirers overwhelmed him. She had it all planned out: a dinner, a cake, a whishing of happy birthday, and reminiscing of old times. Sort of like her own birthday a new months ago.

She was a few months older than both of the men in her former team, but that never stopped them from creating the most deranged love triangle. In their youth, Naruto had loved Sakura, Sakura loved Sasuke, and Sasuke gave off the appearance that he hated everybody.

But her plan for dinner didn't quite happen as did in her own birthday.

They had eaten the dinner that Sakura had prepared for them in her apartment. She would strike up a cheerful conversation between bites and Naruto would nod frantically in agreement, but Sasuke occasionally gave a slight nod of acknowledgement or a cautiously stated "_Aa_." Each conversation she sparked lit up like a match and went out. Soon followed a simple cake she had baked herself. No candles, no wishes, no singing; just cake. Simple yet satisfactory. This was, after all, for Sasuke.

As the evening carried on, Naruto had excused himself for another engagement, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. He stated a "Happy Birthday, Sasuke-bastard" Before he shut the front door behind him. It seems that there would be no reminiscing of the old Team 7 tonight. Sasuke, however, stayed to celan the mess in the wake of Naruto.

When the kitchen had been restored to its original placement, Sakura led Sasuke to her bedroom closet under the promise of presents. "Happy Birthday, Sasuke-kun" was all she said as she handed him two boxes. One wrapped messily and most distinctively from Naruto, and the other neat and light. "Open it next month, on the actual day of your birthday," she whispered and continued, " it's sad though, that Naruto couldn't stay long enough to look back on our lives and have a good laugh."

"The past isn't funny," he replied and grimaced.

"Not always," she sat down in the center of her bed cross-legged and Sasuke followed suit and sat at the edge, facing her as she spoke. "But there is always _something _amusing in it." She smiled that smile of her's that curved her cheeks so high it nearly shut her eyes. The smile that seemed so childlike. Even though they both knew that they were no longer children. For a second he saw the flash of the younger Sakura's face in the new, more mature Sakura. Nut he realized that it wasn't just a flash, there was something flashing on the skin of her shoulder by the light on the ceiling. Curious, he reached out his hand and ran his calloused thumb against her shoulder that was exposed by her red tank top. She didn't flinch. As if reading his mind, she replied smiling "It's a scar."

He then understood that it was the new, shiny, smooth skin that replaced the old on her shoulder that caught his eye. He slightly furrowed his brow at is suspiciously; he never noticed any scars on her before. Where did it come from?

"I got that one while on a mission to rescue a kidnapped girl." She didn't go into any details, he wouldn't care. He looked her in the eye, but not removing his hand. Reading his mind again, she classified the weapon as "_senbon_."

He then glanced back at her shoulder and ran his hand across to her collarbone, where another scar was traced by his thumb.

"It was an infiltration mission of a Mist-Country gang. They detected us." She knew he would fill in the blanks; he wasn't much of an inquirer anyway. He, however, was amused by her tone. She held no regret, no sense of failure in her voice, but instead was tinted with something that sounded like pride.

Why would she be proud of a scar? He always believed scars were a sign of weakness, and failure. His image of strength was being powerful, so powerful no one could lay a scratch on you. That was why he had all those ointments in his drawers at home, to prevent scars from appearing. To hide his weakness. Buy why? Why would anyone be proud of it?

"You should use ointment," he stated to hide his true meaning and added "to prevent scars" to clarify.

She shrugged. "I don't mind them," she replies. "They're a good reminder."

He withdrew his hand and looked at her in slight puzzlement.

"Reminder of what?" he said more gently than he wanted to, but luckily for him she replied and seemed to pay no notice.

"They remind me of where I came from; how I got to this point in my life."

He seemed unimpressed. They were only marks of weakness, but she continued her explanation.

"They each remind me of a part of my life where I worked hard and didn't give up, and I'm sure I never will." She spoke so full of pride that she straightened her back in a more superior position. She was proud of herself and that is what impressed him.

She grew bolder, taller, prettier, braver, smarter, and stronger throughout the years- each scar from the past giving her a hope for the future. It was such an interesting cycle. He wonders if she could live forever with this hope of hers. But her idea of strength is so different from his. She sees strength as rising every time you fall, of never giving up hope, of living with no regrets. His strength was only power. Did she see him as weak? Did his hopelessness and thirst for revenge make her pity him? Or intrigued by him? Or admire him?

He asks about each scar he finds: three on her abdomen, almost six on her legs, two short but deep ones on her back and small ones on her arms. She describes each and remembers everyone.

"Why do you care so much for scars?" he asks.

She smiles and replies: "They are my past. The past makes us who we are."

He found himself in love with this philosophy as it dawned upon him. That he would never have been here, had these friends, been loved by her, or even met her it he did not have those scars within his heart. For him it had been a painful reminder- a burden- but in her eyes, it was who he was, and she still loved him for it.

For a minute he saw the world through new eyes, and a brief appreciation for the outcome of his life. It wasn't so bad, really.

In this moment he gently brought his lips upon her cheek for a split-second before returning to his previous façade and position and station a quick, ambiguous "Thank you." He would let her philosophy slowly be absorbed into his life a little at a time.

She blushed slightly and brought her hand up to where he had kissed her. He noticed red upon her finger.

"You're bleeding," he said as she stole a glance at the finger he was staring so intensely at.

"I cut myself earlier today making dinner for us. I must have reopened the cut by accident." He continued to stare at her finger as she giggled and waved it off as a extremely minor wound. Though she blushed even more when he took her hand and placed it into his mouth. Just like his mother used to do for him.

"Though I do hope it scars." She smiled at him as he released her hand to check if the bleeding stopped and to look her in the eye as she finished, "so I can remember today."

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"Our past makes us who we are. Do not let yours he a burden."

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Angelkicat- 

Hi again. I've gone on a one-shot streak. This one was sparked by instant inspiration. I did this instead of doing my work. I was just musing over scars and came up with this. Its vague, I know, but I felt that it had to be vague because the relationship between them is like that. They're older…sort of AU but…whatever. I like the concept of them being older than them being 12. It's just more fun for me.

This is my imagination. If you find any blanks in the story it's either supposed to be unknown, or you can make up a reason yourself. Exercise that imagination!

Now I'm just babbling.

One last thing: I don't in any way, shape, or form own Naruto, But Sakura says "Hi."

Sakura- No I don't.

Angelkicat- You do now. _gives her a bound and gagged Sasuke_

Sakura- You're right I do! _hugs Sasuke_

Sasuke- X . X

Angelkicat- He's so cute when he does that…. Anyway… Jan ne!


End file.
